classic vlasic

I want to get a point in my blogging life and life in general I guess where I don’t have to sit here and pro and con whether to post a YouTube video of some svelte Croatian high jumper (redundant?) with a Euro-covers soundtrack that I happened to find while trying to Google the spelling of Vlasic (as in pickles, but now and forever more as Blanca Vlasic, my favorite Croatian high jumper), I just do it. I just throw it up there because, because I watched most of it and was like ‘wow, this is what people in Europe do’ and because she was all Christy Turlington-ish and mesmerizing and that’s what blogs are for, and because who cares? I think the new computer I ordered today (finally—thank you, Lord) will maybe help; a lot of the hesitation and second guessing comes when it’s taking things forever to load. Looking forward to the future. And the 2016 or whenever it is Olympics!

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an elephant steps over jayne mansfield

I was at the library doing some mascot research and saw an elephant ((M. Advertiser, Oct. 30, 1959) and thought I was in the right place. And I was. Because anywhere there’s a picture of an elephant high stepping over Jayne Mansfield (trying not to bust, as it were)  is the right place.

an elephant steps over jayne mansfield

But seriously, what the hell were they thinking? She’s two feet away from instant elephant death, which would suck so bad.

my associations with the association

I’ve come to realize over the past few months that I kind of love The Association. I guess I’ve always loved The Association, at least the hits, which is all you ever hear and are really even ever supposed to hear with bands like that, I’ve just never known or I guess cared whose hits they were. Because they were like the butter of oldies stations. It’s Saturday night and you’re driving back to Birmingham after an Auburn game with your dad (wait, why aren’t we spending the night at Grandmama’s?)  and the dashboard is glowing and Windy or Along Comes Mary or Cherish or Never My Love comes on— it’s the ingredient in every oldies-on-the-radio car trip of childhood, of adulthood. They’re just there, so good you never think about them, never really would even think to call to request them (until maybe you reach blog post level awareness), but so silently YES when they come on. And they, this whole time, were a band called The Association… that band…The Association. (I’m sure if I was reading a Trivial Pursuit card, even as a kid, and saw the name The Association, I wouldn’t have questioned that it was the name of a ’60s band, so perfectly ’60s I almost could totally see it being the name of a talent show band in The Wonder Years or something. It’s just a name I never would have thought of without a Trivial Pursuit card, you know?)

Not going to lie—I was about to say never mind and run away when I saw whatever that little routine was before they started playing. But by the end it totally worked. And they’re American, that made me proud. So many of them aren’t, even the ones you think are.

You can learn about my associations with The Dandy Warhols here.